Exceptions
by BlackCurrants
Summary: Due to terrible circumstances, Victoria transfers to Hogwarts for her fifth year. Due to another set of terrible circumstances, she now has an evil dark lord watching her every move. Rated for dark moments, happy moments, violence, & character death.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I felt an inspiration and it just ended up like this.

Disclaimer: I'm not J.K. Rowling.

Xxxxxxxxxx

A pair of diligent brown orbs surveyed the outskirts of the castle, oblivious to everyone else. Perched on the highest room of the Astronomy tower, he watched the remaining carriages pull up in the courtyard. Finding nothing amiss, he pinned on his golden prefect badge and made for the stairs to the Great Hall. A stirring awareness instantly caught him in mid-step. The wind blew back and forth a strange scent that he could not distinguish. It was…unusual. Like a lover, he softly breathed it in, taking it to memory. The perfume smelt like rich vanilla and succulent strawberries— an innocently intoxicating scent that he softly favored as it lingered in his nose. He cocked an eyebrow and slowly walked back, peering under the railing. Something was coming, he knew. Whether it was against him or not, he had yet to find out.

Staring emotionlessly at the last carriage, he watched with a calculating look as two burly Aurors came out of the castle. Suspiciously, they circled their eyes around the area before proceeding to open the carriage door, and respectively giving their hands for the person to take. A delicate palm reached out from the inside of the coach and gently clutched their hands whilst concurrently stepping out. Furrowing his brows, Tom saw that the person was covered head to toe in a long, white shroud. Lantern light washed over the cloth and made the figure appear angelic-like in image. As the strange figure strolled through the entrance, he straightened himself and wondered on the lingering curiosity that he did not doubt, he would quench before the night was through.

Giving one more moment's glance at the entrance, he turned his head and swiftly stalked down the stairs.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

"Hey Charles, how was your summer?" Sebastian Nott inquired, taking his seat.

"Productive," Charles Avery replied, never taking his eyes off his large-spine book. "My father and I spent some quality time together teaching me counter-methods of cursing. It was quite fascinating you see. He put some rather intricate details into techniques of torture." He shortly lifted his eyes, "Instead of fast and brutal, he favors more of a slow and painful process. Under the span of ten to thirty days, it usually ends with victims becoming mentally impaired… It was altogether a delightful summer on my part."

"That's… nice." Came the awkward-edged response.

Not so faraway from the pair, a smirking Abraxas Malfoy stood confidently, preening in the light of his popularity. He was already attending his princely duties to his greatly cherished fan club. To his amusement, the girls were already pushing their way to the front. "Kittens, please. No need to fight. There is enough of me to go around." He momentarily inclined his head in a fastidious manner to one fan, a second year Slytherin. Crafting his charms, he positioned his palm and ever so softly brushed the underside of her chin, causing a number of girls to swoon at the sight. Right on schedule, the brunette swayed on her spot, eyes alight with love and fierce beams of candy-red hearts. Within the span of three seconds, she fell down and instantly lost consciousness. Abraxas continued smirking as the body fell with a loud thud. A day's job well done, he deliberated. Nodding to himself, he casually stepped over the cataleptic body and made his way towards the group.

"Abraxas, I saw that." Callius Lestrange leered, adding his own crooked smile.

"Saw what?" Abraxas' smirk grew even bigger, if that was possible.

"You know, I really do wonder why girls like arseholes like you. It truly is a marvel to be studied." Nott stated grumpily.

"It's the Malfoy charm mate. I'm blonde, I'm as charming as I am rich, and I got just the right baby blues that they cannot say no too. What more could a girl want?" He sighed, arrogantly stroking his chin.

"An actual guy, perhaps? With the way you watch yourself all day Malfoy, I wouldn't be so surprised if…" Callius teasingly trailed off, questioning his friend's sexuality.

"I'm damn gorgeous and you know it." Abraxas stated, flipping his long, blonde hair across his shoulder.

"You're a total ponce and I hope you know _that_." Adrian Mulciber bluntly exclaimed, giving his consideration.

"I'm already feeling sorry for whatever bird's going to marry you in the future." Nott chuckled, watching the already streaming lines of first years lined up at the front entrance. "She's going to go nutters by the first week."

"You're just jealous because you couldn't get into Eileen's pants last year." Malfoy stated with a teasing lilt in his tone. "Shall we bet again this year?"

"Shut up, Malfoy! That's private!" Nott furiously whispered, cocking his head in the direction of Eileen Prince who was in conversation with Ellie Arisen. He instantly felt his lips curl upwards in a shy grin. She spotted his timid beam and softly smiled back before reverting in the opposite direction and reprimanding her friend for something she said. He felt his face go completely red and proceeded to lower his head onto the table. The butterflies fluttering in his stomach made him feel all gooey and gushy and blindly joyous.

"You've gone totally red Nott! Do you happen to have a fever, mate?" Abraxas screamed in the direction of Eileen, making sure she heard every word of what he was implying. She glanced at them once again before turning back with a small chuckle and her own heavy blush, indeed she understood. Sebastian sent Abraxas a chilling glare and grabbed onto Charles' heavy tome. Pressing himself over the table, he whacked Abraxas over the head with it.

"What?" He whined. "What I'd do?"

"Why won't you shut up?" Sebastian yelled, punctuating it with another thwack in the head.

"I daresay, this is harassment! Sexual abuse! I demand a lawyer!" Abraxas screamed, grabbing his book bag and fighting back with, what he would think were hands and teeth.

Trills of laughter filled the Slytherin House table as the two continued their argument and hitting each other over the head with anything they could find.

As the laughter subsided, a query broke through Charles silence, "Have you guys seen Tom anywhere? The ceremony looks like it's about to begin." He nodded towards the entrance. Eyes flitted up at the sound of that name.

"You know him Charles." Abraxas began. "He goes wherever he wants to go, probably already lurking in the stacks somewhere if he's skipping dinner."

"A bit presumptuous of you, Malfoy?" A stern voice rose from in back of them. They all turned there heads and stared at their 'leader'. As always, he stood there crisp and clean. A picture of the perfect pupil. His uniform fitted handsomely to his thin figure, white button-up tucked in and not a single wrinkle in sight. His handsome face stood cold and emotionless, singling out Abraxas as he took his spot at the head of the table. His dark brown hair was well-groomed and softly shining with luster. It was strategically angled out of the way to show the deep depths of his eyes, a smoldering brown surrounded by a circle of dark blue. It traced Malfoy for a moment longer before forgetting him altogether.

"Nott, Avery, Malfoy, Lestrange, Mulciber." He simultaneously nodded to each of his knights before cracking open the manuscript he was carrying and continuing the passage he had left off. In his presence, silence began permeating throughout Slytherin table. Second years already had an idea who he was as they stared unblinkingly in astonishment at their heir. Of course, it remained a strict secret within house members.

The subsequent silence did not go unnoticed by many in other tables. Nott was the first one to break the ice, unfortunately. "Err… how was your summer, Tom?"

Tom instantly stiffened. A feeling of dread flooded the table as brown orbs lined onto Sebastian's own dark blue eyes, and though Tom's were empty of sentiments, there was a distilled anger that pronounced itself in the murky darkness. "How was my summer, you ask?" Tom's gentle baritone voice virtually rang out for all the Slytherins to hear. "Well, I did not imagine it could've gotten any worse… and yet it did. Yes, it was filled to the brink with filthy, ugly, insolent muggles," Anger blended into his softness. "Running rampant into my room… Touching my stuff, invading my privacy, and demanding things of me. As if they could ever stand a chance against me. It's that old fool's fault. I did not even have a single hour to myself without them barging in. If it weren't for that wretched old man, I think I would've slaughtered them all." He finished with an ominous air. The whole table felt the eeriness of his tenor, some shivering in fear while others were gaping in admiration.

"O-oh, my apologies." Nott stammered none too lightly.

"It is none of your concern. Perhaps you should not ask me anymore questions, Nott. I fear I am in a very volatile mood as it is."

"Of course." The words barely came out as Sebastian lowered his head.

Tom buried himself once more into the Dark Arts of, Magickal Maladies of the Dark Ages, by Morag the Malevolent. His unconscious mind lingered back to earlier in the evening when he spotted the mysterious figure. From the appearance of her light curves seen through the silky cloak, he could only make out that she was a female. It still left him with an impossibly endless list of questions. Of course, it probably was nothing to be bothered with. Still, his gut held him back, what if it was something? The doubt placed a strain on his concentration as he finally noticed he had been re-reading the same paragraph. Why were Aurors made to escort her? Was she a student perhaps? Would she be in anyway an asset to his plans? Would she ruin his plans? He inhaled through his nose and coolly stared at the staff table where the old man sat chatting happily with Headmaster Dippet. Dumbledore, he rolled his eyes, how he despised the bearded fool. Sneering in mild disgust, he turned his eyes towards the front as the first years were towed in by Professor Flitwick.

"Alright first years, you may wait in the front. Headmaster Dippet has a few words to share before we commence the sorting." Flitwick stated, standing on the stairs.

This was followed by Dippet standing up from the staff table, and clearing his throat. He smiled kindly at everyone before beginning, "Ah yes, another year of Hogwarts. It is extraordinary how time flies by so fast. I can still remember the day when I took my very first steps into this grand hall, not older then any of you." Giving out a short chuckle, he continued, "Now—before I further these messages along— as always students, please note that the dark forest on the borders of Hogwarts is strictly forbidden. Prefects and Heads have been assigned to execute suitable punishments for such offenses."

"In addition, I would like to welcome back old students, and look forward to meeting new ones. Speaking of new students, there has been an unfortunate happening of sorts earlier this month. I'm sure all of you have heard of…the terrible tragedy that had just been laid to waste in the central wizarding country of southern France. Gellert Grindlewald's forces completely decimated half the magical population there. Many lives were lost that night," He sighed with a cheerless face, "and I hope that you all feel lucky to be where you are, amongst the people you cherish and love. Still here. Still alive. Still being able to live." A number of students lowered their heads in respect.

"On a lighter note, there is a student transferring to Hogwarts today. A very remarkable young woman that I, myself had the pleasure to meet—and I have no doubt Professor Slughorn will soon be wanting to add her to his own private collection." Dippet teased, flashing his eyes at the interested potions professor. "Interestingly, you will find that she is also related to our very own transfiguration teacher, Professor Dumbledore. Please help me in welcoming, Victoria Dumbledore!" He raised his hand towards the closed entrance of the Great Hall and it quickly unlocked.

Tom did not place his book down, opting himself to act disinterested as he 'faintly' stared at the moving doors. The flaps slid open to reveal the cloaked girl he had seen in the courtyard, her face no longer hidden. Dressed in shining, pure white, her saintliness gently enamored the crowd. Tom softly inhaled her unique aroma, not minding it in the least. Low murmurs filled the Great Hall as the juicy news of the month glided in with her two Aurors still sidling her.

"Woah. Would you look at that? I knew this was shaping up to be my favorite year." Abraxas sighed, never taking his eyes off the innocent new prospect.

"Merlin's beard, can you see the gorgeous romp on that swan?" Nott joined in, lewdly watching the girl's hips move left to right.

"Hey! Don't even try Nott, you're already settling with Eileen, remember?" Malfoy snidely responded, shoving his shoulder.

"What are you guys fighting about?" Callius sneered, "She's a Dumbledore, Malfoy. Not one of your sick little fuck buddies. She's an enemy that needs to be observed closely and approached with caution. You should be wondering how revolting standing next to her with a ten foot pole would be!"

"That's revolting?" Malfoy nodded at the blonde haired angel, sauntering nearer to their table.

"Please. Here, Avery will side with me!" Lestrange sneered, placing a hand over his friend's shoulder.

"I think she's pretty." Charles monotonously stated, focusing solely on Victoria as if she was a book he could prop open and read.

"Oh for Merlin's sake…" Lestrange fervently shook his head, cutting his losses.

Tom lazily watched her step towards the front of the table, where he was perched. He felt his own amusement about to crack through as his lips half-curled into a crooked smirk. He couldn't help it, the contrast between him and the old fool's niece was so profoundly infinite that, at the same time, it was overwhelmingly laughable. Yes, everything that she depicted, he contrasted. From her physical attributes: rosy flushed cheeks, soft blonde hair, short stature, illuminating blue eyes, to her probable mentality: pureblood, innocent, most likely not as intelligent as him. He jokingly assessed all of them. The most outspoken would've been her holiness, which seemed to permeate the room in sick, spouts of good will— typical, he rolled his eyes, just like Dumbledore.

As she passed his table, he shrugged out of his whimsical thoughts and began dropping his lips into a sneer. However, as his eyes locked with hers, a moment happened on them. Smoldering brown met glacial blues. Perhaps for a second, it felt like he might've drowned in the intense lightness of her eyes. The corners of her lips bowed into a half smile. The expression did not fault as she proceeded to the steps. She left him feeling somewhat awry, not that he publicly showed it. Quickly, Tom squared his jaw in annoyance and leapt back to his control. How long since he had last slipped? He did not even know, nor wanted too. This would never happen again, he assured himself as a nauseating feeling covered the trail of repulsive sweetness.

The first years parted the stairs for her, gaping in a slack-jawed astonishment. She faced the headmaster and lowered her hood, releasing her long, golden locks to cascade gently down her back. With a kind smile, she nodded towards the grinning man, "Headmaster Dippet, it is wonderful to see you again." Whirling her eyes to the back, she also slanted her head towards Albus, "Uncle." She exclaimed in a loving tone, sharing smiles with her grinning uncle.

"It is wonderful to see you as well Mrs. Dumbledore." Dippet chuckled, already had taken a liking to the young lady among her many visits. As a student, she was still a favorite of his. Serious, respectful, virtuous—among many of her other excellent traits. He had found it quite saddening that Beauxbatons already had a vice-like grip on her. However, now that she transferred to his school, it only managed to boost his arrogance even more.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, I trust you told me that you had agreed to a non-hatted sorting, yes?" He inquired. Victoria hesitantly nodded, remembering that he was the one that insisted.

Sebastian raised his brow, "What the heck does he mean? A non-hatted sorting? There's no such thing, is there?"

"Actually," Charles started. "It's very real. If you've read about the Dumbledore family, you would've noticed that all of them were married to purebloods. Even though they are a bunch of blood traitors and muggle lovers, they're still pure. If I may say so, they are perhaps the purest of pure." He paused for a moment. "Now, in the beginning of the Dumbledore lineage there was a man named Isaac Gryffindor." Tom raised an eyebrow at this.

"Yes, Godric Gryffindor's third son. Although he wasn't the heir, Isaac became the first Dumbledore and through his blood came Wulfric Dumbledore, Albus Dumbledore's great grandfather. At present, their pureblood name is still standing firmly connected to that of Gryffindor's. So it's presumed a blood rite that all Dumbledore's should end up in the house of the brave, the true…the lion." He stated simply. "The non-hatted sorting would start with the lead witch or wizard spilling some of her blood whilst in the castle to call on the house of her choosing. If my facts are correct, this ancient ritual has not been repeated since…the late sixteenth century." He finished with an expression of absolute fascination on his face.

"What have you been reading Avery?" Abraxas gaped.

"So in other words," Lestrange sneered, "this is just pretty much a show of power."

"Most likely." Avery grinned.

Dumbledore waved his hands and gently dimmed the torches, placing the room in a soft shade of grey. Victoria grasped the small, sharp knife from Dippet's hand and gently sliced her thumb with it. The blood immediately poured from her wound, dripping down the cement floor. Within a heartbeat, the blood, to everyone's amazement, seeped through the hardened floor and with it came an outlandish ambiance. Victoria stared at the Gryffindor table, waiting for a sign. It did not disappoint. The portrait of a roaring lion hanging at the end of the table quickly lit up as if commanded. Before anyone could blink their eyes, the same lion leapt out of his portrait, colored and transparent. It confidently roared and stalked onto Gryffindor table, ignoring the many frightened gasps. It sprinted to the front and stopped near Victoria, gazing at her curiously.

"Who are you?" the gruff voice rumbled.

"My name is Victoria Emeline Louise Rosalia Dumbledore." She confidently stated, gazing at the lion. It pursed its muzzle in contemplation and after a few moments of thinking, it nodded.

"Granted." Came the short reply. The lion jumped at her and before it could impact, its body formed into shining sparkles of light, twirling itself around her form. The sparkles changed her clothes to the proper uniform of Hogwarts. She giggled at the tickling sensation as her dress changed to a white button up and pleated skirt. It ended lastly with her tie, a striped yellow and red cloth that hanged loosely around her neck. She grinned at the sound of applause coming from several houses, including Slytherin. Making her way over to her own table, she seated herself next to a grinning red-haired girl.

"My name's Jane Paddock, I'm in your year."

"Victoria." With the exchange, they both grinned at each other and watched as the first years got sorted.

Xxxxxxxxx

Around midnight,

Tom lazily stood near the fire place, vaguely gazing at the flaming orange and red colors leap and dance to the soundless cracks of burning wood. Surrounded by his Knights, he began the meeting with a flourish of his wand, casting an advanced silencing spell on the whole room.

"Hello my faithful Knights. We are coming closer to reaching our goal and soon, the school will finally be purged of those filthy mudbloods." Taking out a heavily jeweled sword from its post, Tom humorously rotated it in his hands. "Currently, we have a new problem to put on the table. Victoria Dumbledore. Enemy or asset?" He inquired. Conversations started, not that Tom took notice, too busy admiring the fine quality of his deadly weapon. He did not even try to make an effort to participate in their silly dispute, knowing in the end he would be the one making the decisions, not them. He walked towards his chair and fell into it, gazing in amusement at his followers antics. Malfoy was currently having a fit with Lestrange. Nott with Malfoy, Mulciber with Lestrange and of course Avery, the only one with an active brain, sat in the middle reading his book.

"Oh c'mon Callius! She's just another girl, mate. No need to go and kill her so soon."

"If she's just another girl Malfoy, then why are you fighting me over her? Where do your loyalties truly lie?" Lestrange scoffed.

"You know I'm devoted to the cause!" Malfoy furrowed his brows in anger.

"Then why do you keep defending her?" Mulciber sighed, already having enough of this.

"I had thought that'd been obvious." Abraxas drawled, "I want to fuck her."

Lestrange rolled his eyes, "Nicely put Malfoy, now I'll never get that image out of my head."

Abraxas winked, "Whatever helps you sleep at night mate."

"Perhaps a less complex approach, gentlemen." Tom gravely put in whilst happily waving his sword about. "I will tell you what to do… and you will follow my instructions," Abraxas was about to comment on something but quickly flexed back as he saw Tom narrow his eyes.

"Is that clear?" Tom inquired with an emotionless gaze, pointing the tip of his blade at Malfoy's throat. Avoiding their fervent nods, he dug the blade a bit deeper until he saw a small dot of blood appear on the fine, pale skin.

"C-crystal." Malfoy fearfully stuttered, feeling the blood dribble over his adam's apple.

"Perfect." Tom crookedly smiled before removing the sword and leaning back into his chair. "Now, until she gives any sign of potential danger towards us, we and our flock will treat her just the same as any idiot Gryffindor. Malfoy, I don't give a damn what you do with her. Court her, date her, fuck her, trash her if you want, but if I see any indication that you're falling out of line, I'll kill you myself." Malfoy gulped, his neck still bleeding.

"Until the next meeting, my lovely knights." Tom concluded, swiftly standing up and striding towards his private dorm.

Everyone shuddered before quietly making their way to their own beds.

Xxxxxxxxxxx


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Second Chapter, enjoy.

Disclaimer: I wish I was as good as J.K. Rowling.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

"Dearly beloved…"

She did not even hear the words. It slipped through her mind and got lost in the murkiness of her thoughts. Cradled in the mahogany boat in front of her, were her parents. They were both sleeping peacefully on top of the redwood barks and sticks that were laid underneath them. Her mother was dressed in one of her beautiful evening gowns and her father was donned into a charming black suit. She had to admit, the mortuaries had outdone themselves. Their hair was perfect. Their faces were perfect. And yet here she was, standing in front of them at the funeral that she had planned. The flowery meadow was completely empty except for the group of mourners gathered around the inner circles. All of them were donned in black except for her. She stood directly at the front in her simple white dress. White, her mother once told, was the true color of death.

"We are gathered here today to mourn the death of Aragon and Lillian Dumbledore and to offer comfort and solace to their blessed ones. These are harsh times that tests a person's will and whether they are facing death at this moment, they shall know that they are protected and loved and sanctified under the wings of the Phoenix…"

The shock of their death had crushed her several weeks ago, but now as she stared directly over their heads, taking her mother and father's face to one last memory, she felt beyond empty. There was just not enough time in the world.

They seemed so serene laying there that she was absolutely sure they could have woken up at any moment. However, reality was not at all that generous. They were completely gone.

"Through the loss of a loved one, we must forgive. Forgiveness must be given and received in return, through the hopes of which will recreate us for better. We honor not the approach of their death but the comfort of their memory, as we trust it would turn our grief and confusion and heal our hearts. Let them conspire with the Phoenix and become one, let them be reborn through the ashes and live again in the stars, in infinite vitality_._ The end that transpired here will not be summed within the skies, let them be free to roam the earth and dance in the clouds. To sing joyously once more as we finally release them from their binding chains to this cruel world. Blessed be." The priest placed his ivory wand onto the wood and exclaimed in a solemn tone, "Incendio." Fires leapt out from the tip of his wand and the flames covered both her parents' bodies.

She held onto the pain and loss, favoring it rather then that languid pool of emotionless torture she had been recently suffering. Her white gloved hands were fisted, the nails digging painfully into the flesh of her palm. She did not dare tear her eyes away from the scene. Whichever way her parents had died, she didn't know, but that was not their last stand. This, this was their last stand, and as their daughter she proudly loved them enough to fight the impulse of casting the 'Aguamenti' charm.

The helpers began to push the boat towards the river, and left it to float off the tugging current. She stared as the boat drifted farther away from her. Her blue eyes finally glossed with tears. Each individually streamed down her face and she had no intent on stopping them. It was finally her time to let them go.

A gentle hand clasped onto her shoulder and she peered up, finding the soothing indigo of her uncle's eyes.

"You should not be alone at this time, Victoria." He softly pronounced, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulder.

"You're right as always, uncle." She huskily responded, her voice having been used to cry and scream for the last two weeks. A sorrowful silence past both of them as they watched the burning flames cover the people they cherished. Dumbledore enveloped her further into his warm embrace, "They are at peace now, Victoria. Far away from here."

"I know." She briefly replied. The silence stood as they watched the boat head into the steady waves.

Her uncles wizened expression breached the cordial silence, "I know this is not exactly what you want to hear at this moment, but perhaps you could consent to letting me adopt you. Aragon would've wanted me to take care of you and I honestly don't trust Aberforth with your safety after this horrible calamity."

"...Would I have to live in England… away from France?" Her voice was strained.

"Yes." He quietly answered.

So many childhood memories were to be thrown away, but it would let her recover from the present tragedy. All her life, she had lived in France. She loved the flowery scent that completed the midnight air, the freshness of the land, the beauty of the cities. However, England was another story. The smell of England made her nauseous, the grime-filled air made her sick, and the monumental brick houses were not at all artistic. The English people only had one face, whether it was happy, sad, or angry, they only had one and she found them all terribly boring. Uncle Albus was different, and he led her to believe that perhaps not all people were comfortable enough to be like them. The people were all congruent and had a personal bubble that not everyone could possibly encroach upon. They feared discovery so they would put on a mask, one face. Not at all like people in Paris… but Albus would be there, and maybe that was all she needed.

Therefore, she calmly accepted.

After the mourners left, she still waited with Albus until she saw, within the distance, the fire die out. Victoria only wished that the hollowness would vanish with it. Albus gave her his hand to take, a reassuring grin on his face.

"It is time to go, little Victoria." He had used the old nickname he had frequently called her when she was a child. Lightly chuckling at his approach to lighten the mood, she grasped his hand and with one last remaining look at the ashes of her parents that were swirling and floating concurrently in the east winds, she finally gave a faint smile, "Yes, I guess it is."

Turning back towards Dumbledore, they began walking away from the meadow and never once had they looked back.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

Waking up in the dimness of the room, she blinked her eyes to get rid of the foggy dizziness. Covering her mouth, she let out a long, refreshing yawn before stretching her body and promptly getting off the bed. She swiftly folded her blankets and reached for a towel hung on her closet hooks. As she quietly passed by one of the snoozing cots, a loud snore caught her attention. She hid a small chuckle, the snore surprisingly came from Margaret Oswald, a fellow Gryffindor and positively one of the most visionary prima donna's she had ever had the pleasure of being acquainted with- and being at Beauxbatons, that was saying something. To her brief astonishment, the drama queen snored louder then a giant on a packed stomach. Victoria chuckled to herself and continued tiptoeing to the girl's bathroom.

Turning on the hot bath water, she waited for her tub to be filled. Breathing in her familiar vanilla essence, she leaned against the sink and let her mind wonder to where her thoughts lingered on a single person. Her uncle had warned her against this Tom Riddle and she had thought his obsession was rather unhealthy after the previous times he had repeated himself, but last night she had gotten a taste of that fixation herself and amended her notions. Tom Riddle was nothing like the rest of the people she had seen at the sorting ceremony— or any other person she had ever met, he was an enigma.

Lathering the soap onto her tired body, she remembered the innate sensation of looking at him, looking into his eyes. The pale texture of his skin, the sharp angles of his face, those alluring brown orbs, tinted with what she had thought were 'red' flecks. She did not even let herself blink at that moment.

Carefully submerging herself under the water, she watched the soapy suds float on top of her head. He honestly was the only puzzle that she couldn't solve at first encounter. Tom Riddle was clearly well endowed— handsome, tall, fit, and appeared to be most charming— but there was something lurking in those smoldering brown orbs. It was wicked, that much she could tell— but that was not all. It spanned longer then that and at the end of the tunnel, she saw a light. Perhaps just a touch of loneliness creeping through all the shadows, and it tingled her interest.

Remerging, she wrapped a fluffy pink towel around herself before heading back into the common room.

"Oh god," Jane grumbled, "is it morning already?"

"Afraid it is Jane." Victoria grinned, pacing towards the dressing room. She donned on her school uniform and came back into the bedroom. Several girls were moving around by now except for grumpy Margaret, who still moaned for everyone to shut the hell up and let her sleep.

"Is she always like that in the morning?" Victoria softly inquired at the grousing lump.

"If you think this is scary, you should see her on one of her monthlies. The woman has multiple ways of making our lives a living hell…" Jane rolled her eyes, standing up from her bed.

Victoria chuckled at her roommate and seated herself in front of a vanity mirror. Taking her wand out, she pointed it at the crown of her golden-white locks to apply some beauty charms she had learned from the appearance-crazed friends of hers from Beauxbatons. Within a few seconds, her hair was dried and naturally waved, gently coiling down to her lower back. Her face was lightly made up, covering any potential bags that would've appeared under her eyes. She assessed herself and nodded in acceptance.

"Oh Merlin," Came the gruff response of Margaret.

"Morning Margaret." She inwardly snickered at the red, fuzzy-haired puffball shooting out from the sheets.

"Hells of fire. Remind me never to slip in anymore of Ogden's Best before bed." She groaned, patting down her messy garnet locks. "Why, in all that is good and holy, is it so goddamn bright in here this morning?"

Victoria peered around the room, there were effectively no windows open for there to be any light. "Erm…Margaret, there is no light in here." She mumbled cautiously, hoping not to get in the way of the brunette's indignation.

"Ah, fuck it." Margaret gruffly put out, standing up and grabbing her own towel from her closet. "There better be some freaking peppermint in that shower." The "or else" hung in the air, creepily implied. Victoria chuckled at her new friend's antics, already feeling sorry for the girl—there was no peppermint.

Within a few minutes of waiting, the ostentatious result came without fail. A long, high-pitched screech sounded from the showers followed by a handful of colorful, unnerving words. Jane immediately came running out of the bathroom like she was being chased by death itself. "By Lillith! If I have to take one more of her little morning rants, I'll tear my hair out just so she won't need too!" Jane furiously screamed, scrambling for her uniform ad towards the dressing room.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

Walking into the Great Hall, she seated herself beside Jane. Victoria loaded her plate with the usual, a slice of apple pie, a blueberry muffin, a banana, and tons of strawberries piled under heavy whip cream. She adored strawberries and whipped cream since she was a child, and almost always preferred it over anything else.

Polishing off the last of her strawberries, she suddenly felt an indistinct pressure pushing on the walls of her mind. She turned around and peered at the direction of magic. The culprit was seated at the head of the Slytherin table, narrowly watching her reaction. Her heart instinctively sped up. He was scrutinizing her from across his table as his friends chatted amongst themselves. His elbow propped up under his right cheek and his gaze leveled in interest.

She boldly raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to continue. He quickly obliged and repeatedly attacked her walls. To her, a Master occlumency, it felt like he was bouncing a rubber ball against her wards and trying to break it that way. She could only guess that he had just started self-teaching himself the basics this year. One particular hit had caught her off guard. The shield cracked a little and her mind took the light hit. She easily repaired it for the next brutal attack, and the beats continued.

After a few short moments of letting him have his fun, she decided to end it. Using legilimency, she swiftly threw him out of her mind, smirking as she heard the unpleasant gasp escaping Riddle's mouth. She had caught him directly off guard and as he shrugged off his friend's concerns, his eyes reverted back to hers. In her point of view, it truly wasn't an expression of anger that he so kindly stabbed at her, but neither was it deliriously happy. To her amusement, if she could pick borderline expressions, it would be between utter amazement and pure indignation. A fascinating mix, if she did say so herself.

"Oh, you're a Riddle fan eh?" the voice came from Margaret, who was currently biting into her pecan muffin.

Victoria swiftly turned back towards her friend, still feeling holes burning into the back of her head, "I'm sorry?" she inquired, not hearing the previous words.

"Tom Riddle, the boy you were staring at who is sitting at the Slytherin table." Jane exclaimed, nodding towards Tom.

"And?" She quickly stated.

"Do you fancy him?"

Dazzled by the reeling question, Victoria paused for a moment to think of an answer, but that only aided Margaret's insinuations.

"Oh you do!" She harshly squealed.

"No, I do—," There was no easing her way out of this one.

"Don't deny it sweetie! Just now, you were all buttery eyes and jutting lips at him! It's alright though, I saw him staring at you from the moment you came in the Great Hall." Margaret bragged.

"It doesn't mean that I like him!" She countered.

"Well good then. I don't like Riddle anyways." Jane stated with her head held high, "He's so weird. He has this creepy feeling going on whenever he walks into a room, makes the hairs on the back of my neck stick up."

Margaret completely ignored Jane's statement, "You're not the first one you know, a lot of other girls like Tom too. Unfortunately, it just goes to show that all the hot guys in this school are in the snake pit… along with all those evil, malicious, grabby vipers." Her turquoise eyes flew towards one in particular, a busty blond sitting far too close for comfort to Charles Avery. Suddenly to everyone's notice, everything got all gloomy and ominous as the enemies locked eyes.

"Adela Altridge, Slytherin fifth year." Jane inwardly commented.

"Don't forget spoiled bitch-extraordinaire." Margaret put in, leveling her glare to the plastic-boobed, fake-tanned, hairy-lipped viper. She repeatedly stabbed her scrambled eggs, imagining it was the menacing little whore's head.

"Margaret has a huge score to settle with her for this one incident in our third year." Jane sighed, articulating that she had already explained this multiple times. "She's a right nasty tempered piece of work, Altridge. Her family's all pureblood-mania as well so you can just imagine what kind of lies they've been filling her tiny little nut with— Especially about how to treat blood traitors. I suggest you stay away from her when we're not around. Now that you're friends with Margaret and you're the niece of the most famous muggle-loving practitioners in the whole of Wizarding Europe, you're probably one of the firsts on her hit list." Jane declared, remaining surprisingly unconcerned through the whole ordeal.

"You tell me that now?" Victoria sighed. "Who's the guy sitting next to her?" She inquired whilst scanning her eyes interestedly among the many people seated. She observed them and took notice of their interesting habits. How they avoided coming into contact with the other houses by means of effortless grace. They made themselves apart from the school by being a tad bit better then everyone. Their uniforms were a bit nicer. The fabric was a bit more expensive. Their manners were impeccable; backs straight, chest out, no bending, pushing the seat out for girls who were leaving, pushing the seats in for girls who intended to sit. She understood the symbolic meaning behind it all. It was their intent to personify the purebloods rights over that of…well, everyone else.

"His name's Charles Avery. Very intelligent, somewhat quiet though. In my opinion, he's the nicest out of all of 'them'" Jane answered, pointing out the private group. "And Margaret's destined future husband, if everything goes her way."

"Isn't he just gorgeous…that brown hair, those gray eyes? Ah, I just want to drown in them all day." Margaret cooed, completely love struck. Victoria maneuvered away from the partial drool that was beginning to edge out of her mouth.

Jane sneered, "Don't mind her. She's always been a little…nutters when it comes to Avery. She's known him ever since they were in diapers, but he always overlooked her. He still probably doesn't even know of her existence. Pitiful really." Jane shrugged, looking over at the table.

"The guy who's sneering at Altridge is Callius Lestrange. He's on the Slytherin Quidditch team as lead chaser. Quite a brooding fellow but he's not as quiet as Charles." She gazed towards the tall raven haired Slytherin, who was at the moment viciously arguing with Adela. Jane promptly leaned in closer to whisper into Victoria's ear, "Between you and me, I think he has a small crush on Margaret. Altridge and Lestrange practically always argue over her." Victoria chuckled, and told her to continue.

"Well, the one on his left, chatting amorously with Eileen Prince is Sebastian Nott. He is currently vying desperately for Eileen and has been for the last five years. I guess he's not as bad as most Slytherins, I'll give him that." Jane assured, watching as the scruffy-haired jokester goofily smile at something Eileen said. While listening to Eileen, he drank a cup of pumpkin juice and suddenly guffawed, making some of the juice squirt out of his nose. Flustered with embarrassment at his sudden slip-up, he kindly took the napkins a laughing Eileen was offering and carefully dabbed at his nose.

"And the other one who's on his left quietly eating his meal is Adrian Mulciber. I don't know much about him other than he's in their little group and he's incredibly brilliant at Herbology, managed to ace my owl scores last year." She shrugged, forking another piece of scrambled eggs. The brown-haired boy in question was reading a book as he took his breakfast. And every so often he would look up and comment on something before returning to reading.

"Then there's Riddle." She indignantly voiced. Victoria cocked her left eyebrow, she wanted to know everything.

Jane warily peered back at her, "I don't think you should associate with him, Victoria." Then her gaze traveled back towards the Slytherin table where Tom was currently eating his breakfast. Surely he knew there were people staring at him, perhaps he even pinpointed that she and Jane were staring at him. Yet he paid no attention and acted as if he was unaware. Jane boldly continued, "He's dangerous. There's always some kind of trouble that follows whenever he's around. There were a couple of incidents last year and the years before that the headmaster had to hush up for the sake of the school. Girl's hairs burning, permanent hexes that led to boy's having to stay in St. Mungos, entrapment mirrors, and it all had something to do with him. I know it." She broadly claimed, sneering at Riddle.

"You can't be sure." Victoria softly stated, denying to herself that she was defending Riddle.

"I am... and I'll prove it one day." Jane grimly replied, going back to her breakfast.

Margaret quickly cut in, "There seems to be one missing. Ah-hah, found him!" She pointed her forefinger at the visible strands of blond hair that appeared in the corner of the Great Hall surrounded by a circle of giggling girls. "That, my dear friend, is Abraxas Malfoy and his adoring, raging fan club."

"A fan club?"

"Well, what do you expect? He looks utterly delicious," She sighed, running her eyes up and down the boys back. "I mean if I didn't have Charles…But he's a complete and total player, Malfoy. I think by now he's already slept with half the girls in this school. Usually if he's in a delicate mood, he would take a girlfriend for a week at the most but then dump them in the end." She shrugged, twirling her red locks.

Victoria watched amusedly as he skillfully courted each girl simultaneously. They sighed and swayed in their place and concurrently enough, some strode away in satisfaction. Satisfaction, she humorously scoffed to herself, wondering when the race of brainless schoolgirls would ever end.

Within a heartbeat, she found herself zoning in on Malfoy who was now staring at her, much to her surprise. She hadn't noticed until that moment and quickly lowered her eyes. How embarrassing, she lightly thought in disbelief. Shaking her head, she hesitantly gazed back. His amused smirk was plastered on his delicately pale face as he darted his blue-gray orbs at her. Raising his hand, he cutely waved, moving his hands swiftly from left to right. His fan clubs momentary loss of attention was clearly noted. Whilst his back was turned, they retorted by giving her seething and evil glares, before going back to googly-eyed giggling idiots as Malfoy cheerfully turned back to them.

Victoria frozenly gaped at the whole scenario, it rendered her speechless. She wanted to burst out laughing at the comical situation but controlled her light urges.

Soon enough, her uncle came bounding towards them with a handful of papers in his hands and a hearty smile on his face, as usual.

"Hello ladies, a lovely morning isn't it?" He made a show of breathing in the refreshing morning air.

"Good morning, Professor Dumbledore." Jane stated with a wide smile on her face.

"Good morning to you as well, Miss. Paddock." He exclaimed before pulling out small sheets of paper, "Here are your timetables. Another brilliant schedule Miss. Paddock and you as well Victoria. Good luck." He handed them out and grinned at his niece before continuing down the table.

They examined theirs and momentarily heard the shocked gasp coming from Margaret.

"Holy flipping hell, doubles herbology with Hufflepuffs? I'm seriously going to die of boredom in that rusted badger's pit." She groaned, repeatedly hitting her head against the table.

"Consider yourself lucky you didn't get doubles potion with the Slytherins. Slughorn favors his snakes." Jane sneered, narrowing her eyes at the sick piece of paper.

Victoria stared at her timetables and noticed the same for her first period, "Oh, I got that as well."

"Thank Merlin, I'm not alone!" Jane desperately cried, hugging her friend to her.

Xxxxxxxxxx


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Ahh I can't wait to get into the real drama. I feel the vibe that I'm getting from most of this chapter and earlier chapters is dramatic teenage highschool experience thing, but I'm making it out to be a whole lot deeper then that later on! What I'm going for is dark and maybe way out of my age league. I hope you guys wish me luck for trying! Maybe I'll read a really moody dark book before doing this! If you guys have any recommendations for a darkFF or book that I may pertain help from, tell me! PLEASE :D**

BC-

I Love you Little People, You MAke my WORLD go ROUND.

XoXo

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He evilly smirked to himself as he heard Paddock's low mutterings,

"He's dangerous…"

She was warning that girl about him, and so soon as well. This event had called for entertainment, but in spite of this…he found it somewhat of a pity. He very much wanted to warn her off himself after her little power display a few moments ago. A fifth year, no less a 'Gryffindor' fifth year knew the inner workings of occlumency…and legilimency. As he attacked her, she easily strained him along, played him like a puppet, and evidently threw him out with the barest expressions of remorse. Should he be so surprised at this new discovery? Conversely, she was a Dumbledore…and she had challenged him. Perhaps it was that foolishly brave, maniacal, suicidal, Gryffindor tendency that seemed to catch his odd interest.

Brought out from his inner musings, he watched as a cheerful Slughorn came springing down the tables directly towards him. Managing not to roll his eyes, he donned on the perfect student mask.

"Ah, there you are my boy! I was looking all over for you!" Slughorn chuckled. "I was being chatted up by so many others that I had almost forgotten my favorite student and suddenly, here you are!" The potions professor jollily placed a hand on Tom's arm. Tom grinned, unconsciously passing the need to break every bone in the fairly wrinkled palm.

"That's excellent sir, I was wondering the same thing." He casually lied.

"Ah yes, good lad! How was your summer, Tom?" If Slughorn hadn't been searching through the timetables, he would have noticed the sudden stiffness of his prized student.

"It was great, sir." Tom declared, grinding his molars together in aggravation.

"Brilliant, brilliant...At least someone enjoyed theirs. Here you are Tom," Handing him his schedule, Slughorn continued, "I hope you don't mind but I took the liberty of fixing Doubles Potions for your first period."

"Course not, sir." Not really caring anymore, he relaxed into his seat and charmingly smiled.

"Excellent, I'm afraid I'll have to cut this little tête-à-tête short, must be getting on with passing these out. I do so look forward to seeing you in my class later." With an energetic wave, the short man quickly went off to his duties. It left Tom to examine his new schedules and tie up some personal loose ends.

Opening his book bag, he softly caressed the wrinkled green cover of an ancient tome. Within the pages laid the dispelled secrets of Salazar Slytherin and his 'fabled' Chamber of Secrets. Tom triumphantly smirked, remembering how much time it took him to search for the damn book. But now that he had it, it would only be a matter of time before he could open the Chamber. And he would finally leave his impression in history, finally rid Hogwarts of the filth that seemed to increase more and more every year. Standing up with renewed energy, he swiftly stalked out of the Great Hall towards his first class of the day.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

"Merrythought versus Dumbledore?" The statement rang from the red-haired girls mouth.

"Of course it's Dumbledore!" Jane mocked, walking in the middle of Poppy and Victoria. Poppy Redwall was one of their roommates that also had Doubles potion for first period. She was a tall, lanky girl with coppery red hair that didn't shine and glitter quite exactly like Margaret's jewel spunned garnet locks, but it had…certain potential— Victoria liked to think. The girl didn't care about her looks, opting to leave her hair in a messy drag down her back, to wear a too-large button up that hid any curves that she might've had, and a longer-then-necessary skirt to cover her lower body.

"Please. Merrythought's our DADA professor! You would think that she'd be the one to win against him." Poppy countered, fixing her eyeglasses.

"But Dumbledore is Dumbledore. He's a Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and Supreme Mugwump. The probability of anyone getting that is like…never." Jane dully finished. "He'd totally wipe the floor with Merrythought."

"Considering that I have seen Merrythought duel and not Dumbledore— and let me tell you she isn't the easiest witch to beat— I'm still siding with Merrythought."

"I didn't say she w—," Jane was cut off.

"Victoria let's take this way! It's a short cut." Poppy pointed her forefinger in the other direction and grinned at Victoria, who had paused in mid-step.

Victoria didn't mind the two bickering girls as she slowly followed them, taking in the highly detailed structure of Hogwarts. The vastness of the floors seemed never-ending from where she stood. As they took up the stairs, the brown colored walls didn't smell like breakfast anymore. In their stead was a comforting scent of old parchment and the florid perfume that seemed to waft through the open windows. Some portraits caught her attention. They greeted her with different flourishes of good mornings and some even ventured to ask her about her lineage. She politely greeted them back but avoided further questions about her family. It was afterall none of their business. As she stepped through another corridor, she was stopped momentarily by Jane's stiff back. Wondering what kind of detour had halted their steps, Victoria took a small peek and saw a flaxen-haired beauty and a handsome, scarlet-haired boy fiercely arguing it out in the middle of the hall.

Jane quietly darted to a hidden corner and pulled her and Poppy along.

"That's Cedrella Black and Septimus Weasley." Jane stated in amazement.

"Why do you sound so surprised?" Victoria whispered.

Poppy nudged her, "It's because they hate each other. Black would never be caught dead in public with Septimus."

"If you would just listen to me!" The boy yelled.

"Now it's all about you again! You! You! You! What about me? Incase you haven't noticed Weasley, you've got nothing to lose!" The girl screeched.

"Oh, back to surnames are we, Black? Real mature." He sneered, crossing his arms.

"Takes one to know one, Weasel." She attacked back, defiance in her stance.

"You know what? I give up! If you don't want us to stay together then fine by me!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

"Don't expect me to ever talk to you again, Weasel! Remember that you broke this relationship on your own!" She twirled around and began stalking away, her long platinum blond hair moving with her.

"What are you, daft woman? I was trying to save this relationship, you stupid cow!" He floated in his uncontrolled furiousness and didn't catch the last few words he said. She faced him with her eyes filled with tears and instantly the dreadful stinging guilt erupted in his spine along with the odd sensation of boils forming on his skin. She had hexed him! That cheeky minx!

"Take that! Now your face matches your hair, you bastard! Good riddance!" She screamed, huffily walking away.

"Wait! Wait! I'm not finished!" He yelled. "Come back! I'm not…done." She was already gone.

After a few moments of unnatural silence, he crouched onto his knees on the floor, still not noticing the girls watching. Placing his face into his hand, he covered the many tears that were beginning to spill steadily down his cheeks. "Drell…I'm sorry. Come back." He desperately mumbled. "Please." He had taken it too far this time.

"Ahem." With renewed hope, he quickly flashed his eyes towards the corner, to only lower them in disappointment. Of course it wasn't her.

"How long have you been standing there?" He coldly questioned, wiping away the last few remnants of his breakdown. He gracefully stood up, promptly turning his heels towards them.

"Just a few minutes…but we're all deeply sorry for being here. It was very rude of us to encroach upon your conversation." Victoria softly replied, seeing the tiredness in him. It protruded from his very image, from the way he seemed to slump as he walked to his disheveled red hair.

"Septimus, are you alright?" Jane inquired with a touch of concern.

"It's fine. I'm fine." He breathed, combing a hand through his hair and placing a weak smile on his face. "I trust you pretty girls to keep this a secret for me, won't you? It won't help things if this gets out."

"Of course!" They all said at the same time, nodding their heads in agreement.

Septimus lightly chuckled and slowly walked away while humming a mysterious tune.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

Knowing they most likely had seconds of making it to class on time, Jane led them in a full-throttled sprint. She kept on muttering about how this would affect her perfect attendance record whilst Victoria and Poppy stared at her with amused smirks. Seeing the seemingly brightly lit door as their success, Jane absolutely left all arguments behind and leaped towards the entrance.

"YES!" She yelled in the rush of triumph as she peered up at the clock. It left them with 5.6 seconds to spare.

Unnoticed by the self-satisfied prefect, the whole classroom was now gawking at the three girls who laid there panting for their lives. Slughorn was also gaping at them from the front of his class, his jaw frozen in mid-word.

The prolonged silence went on until Slughorn finally shook his head and audibly cleared his throat. "Ms. Redwall, Ms. Paddock, what on earth were your means of exploding into my classroom like a bunch of animals?" He inquired before glimpsing at the grandfather clock in the back of his room, "And late too! That calls for a detention!" Slytherins snickered under their breath as they stared.

"We weren't late sir! We still had five seconds!" Jane argued breathily.

"Are you raising your voice at me, Ms. Paddock? Detention is Friday night. Both you and Ms. Redwall will see me in my office after dinner." Slughorn declared. Both girls gave a harsh groan.

"What? That's not fair! What about—what about Victoria? She was late with us!" Jane looked like she was about to go into a seizure.

"Ms. Dumbledore is obviously new and doesn't know her way around yet so I will excuse her, for the time being." He defended, grinning at Victoria.

"But, but…"

"No buts unless you want a week's worth."

"Yes professor." She dejectedly sighed, taking a seat in the front.

Victoria gave her a sad smile and took the seat next to her, patting her friend softly on the shoulder.

"Now, as I was saying," Slughorn continued, "welcome to another year of Potions. This year we will be focusing our attention mainly on the Draught of Peace. Although not as complicated as its brother the draught of living death, it is still very, very tricky to make. May I also add that this potion will be included in your O.W.L.s exam, which will be taken at the end of your fifth year. Should you decide to not pay attention in my class, you will fail." He finished before waving his wand.

"I will be the one to choose your partners this year." Many groans were heard in the classroom as small scraps of parchment appeared out of nowhere on their desks. "Quickly write your names on the piece of parchment and raise your hand when you're done." Victoria neatly scrolled her name onto the parchment and raised her hand. As soon as everyone finished, Slughorn once again waved his wand, and the parchments all rose to the ceiling, intermixing with one another in mid-air. After a moment, they all flashed down to the desks, simultaneously separating for each student.

"Now read the name of your partner and move to where he or she is." Slughorn gleefully grinned at his festive sorting.

She picked up her parchment and read it, softly widening her eyes during the process. On the scratched piece of parchment laid the name 'Tom Riddle' composed beautifully in dark black ink. She unconsciously smoothed her finger over it and found that the dark ink pressed so harshly that it indented into the scroll, but it didn't taint the back. Feeling brown eyes already staring at her from across the room, she stood awkwardly from her chair and waltzed over to his desk.

Upon sitting in her seat she found she was assaulted with a curious lack of confidence. He raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at her and faintly smiled in amusement. Inhaling once for confidence, she only further submitted to the masculine scent of fresh soap and…pinewood? Damning her pride to hell, she began her introduction with hopeful gusto, "Hello my name is Vi—,"

"Victoria, yes I heard." He charmingly answered. His voice was so much better then she had imagined. It was melodic with a husky quality to its pitch that seemed to compliment his being. Like one of those voices you know was made for someone as you heard them. A beautiful voice that was made to calm, to bend, to persuade, to manipulate, to fear and she cared for nothing but to hear it again.

"I had caught a glimpse of you yesterday in the Great Hall,"

"I saw you as well." She swiftly replied, her eyes carefully treading over his. He was clearly playing ignorant of what happened at breakfast.

He chuckled, "I didn't have a chance to introduce myself at that time. My name's Tom Riddle." He gave her his hand to shake. She gladly took it and was amazed at how warm his hands were.

"My names—… right. Well, you know who I am. Nice to meet you." She shortly answered with a grin of her own.

He smiled in response before letting go of her palm. "So how long have you been meaning to transfer to Hogwarts? I mean, we ever rarely get any new students popping up in the beginning of their fifth year."

"Oh, I didn't. My uncle decided it for me." She answered, taking out her Potions book and turning to the directed page.

"Professor Dumbledore?"

"Yes."

"I see." He left it off from there as Professor Slughorn began discussing the various types of potions.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

"That was a big no-no Victoria!" Margaret said, sitting alongside her.

Thank Merlin it was lunch time! Finally something to lighten her spirits of the horrible transaction between her and Riddle. At the beginning of potions class he had been kind and polite, taking thorough care of greeting her and helping her settle in. And then within the passing of a few minutes, they proceeded into an assigned lab and he turned entirely chauvinistic and arrogant. He ignored her help and calmly told her that all she needed to do was "sit there and look pretty".

What kind of a woman did he take her for? Victoria sneered, chomping viciously on the roast beef. Then they traded a couple of slurs and insults and there was no stopping the heated argument that came to pass. The ending result was detention, for both of them.

"It's his entire fault! If he would've just crushed the sopophorous beans like I told him then we wouldn't have started arguing in the first place!" She screamed, infuriated at the thought of the prejudice pig telling her what to do.

"Ok, calm down girl. Just don't mind him if it's his fault. If you just let him do it on his own then you'll get an easy 'A' without getting your head put on the chopping block." Margaret stated warningly.

"Hah! Like I'll give him that satisfaction now! I'm not just going to surrender to that chauvinistic prick so easily!" She stated, fisting her hands in anger.

"Shh, relax. Before you get us both killed." Margaret whispered whilst clenching her teeth and peering towards the direction of the Slytherin table. Victoria turned her head towards them as well to find most of them staring at her with narrowed, vicious looks.

"What's got their wand in a knot?"

"You, of course." Jane responded exasperatedly on her left side. "Have we not told you that Tom Riddle practically has them all under collar and leash? They're loyal. They protect him from anyone who tries to attack him and your verbal assault today has pronounced you as public enemy number one." She emphasized the number by putting her forefinger up.

"Collar and leash? How medieval of him." Victoria sneered with an unpleasant grin on her face.

"It doesn't matter. It takes only one word from him, Victoria, and all of his dogs will see to it that you don't last till the end of the month. Stay complacent and be sure to avoid him." Jane finished, scooping up some mashed potatoes.

"I'm not afraid. I can handle his dogs." She calmly declared, standing up from the table. The rest reciprocated and began walking to the common room.

"How can you be so sure of yourself?" Poppy inquired, gazing at Victoria.

"Common sense tells me that they wouldn't dare try anything in public. I'm sure they won't even lay a single hand on m—," Her words were discontinued as she tripped on something. Completely disorientated, she rolled onto her back and rubbed her nose, checking if it was broken. Oh, there would be hell to pay if it was.

"What the hell did you do that for?" Margaret angrily screamed, helping Victoria to her feet.

"Calm yourself Oswald, it was merely an accident." A teasing lilt answered back.

Victoria peered from under her hooded eyes and saw Adela Altridge smirking at her from the center of her posse. In fact, all of the girls seemed to hold multiple copies of Altridge's smirk as they stared her down like she was some kind of filthy bug that needed to be squashed. Victoria opened her mouth to speak but quickly pulled back in a terrible wince. She felt around for her wound and found her bottom lip was split from where her teeth punctured it. She felt a small stream of blood glide down her mouth and saw the many of eyes of Slytherins leer wickedly at her.

"An accident? Is that all you've got to say after you purposely tripped her?" Margaret growled.

"You've got it all wrong." Altridge teased, "See, your monkey here almost tripped me so I think I should be the one getting an apology. But lucky for me, I don't need to be wasting my time with that apology since it would be worthless anyways." She flipped her blond hair over her shoulders. "I do propose you train your monkey better though. She could've scratched my new suede heels."

Margaret scoffed, "The day I do that is the day when you finally acquire a brain, Altridge."

"Watch your tongue half-blood… or one day someone might cut it out." Came the heated response.

"Oh is that a threat, Slytherin bitch?"

"Why you…" Altridge stepped closer, her manicured fingers fisted tightly in her palm. She angrily clenched her teeth and Margaret stood challengingly, smirking at her from where she stood.

The attack was more then imminent and just as Altridge was about to take a strong leap at Margaret with her sharp claws in front of her, she was lamely pulled back by a pair of strong, callous hands. Victoria flashed her eyes at the person covered behind the shrieking, clawing Slytherin and surprisingly found Abraxas Malfoy. He was easily grinning at her while carrying the struggling sack in his right hand.

"Hello. I don't think we've met." He huskily breathed. His face still had that naturally mysterious smile on his face.

"The name's Abraxas Malfoy." He calmly held out his other hand that wasn't occupied.

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End file.
